Crash & Burn
by Juliann7
Summary: Hunter & McCall finally come to terms with a one -night stand that occurred 18 months earlier.
1. Chapter 1

Hunter sat in a beach chair with a cold beer in one hand while his 43-year-old eyes gazed at the sights around him. The annual Hunter Family Reunion was well underway just north of his police stomping grounds of L.A. The annual family reunion was held in Montecito, just outside of Santa Barbara. He was thankful for the shades covering his eyes, which were now affixed on his police partner, Dee Dee McCall, who was jumping waves in a royal blue bikini with several of his young nephews and nieces. Her shriek of laughter as the bubbling surf tickled her naked skin made him warm inside and hard on the outside.

Her dark hair was piled onto her head, but the ocean breeze caused a few curly tendrils to escape, framing her beautiful face. He was thankful for his baggy swim trunks, and silently cursed his traitorous body. She was his best friend and confidante, and the best partner he could ever ask for. She was his, and no one else's. He made goddamn sure of that one. The tiny, un-flirtatious touches that she took for granted were actually his unconscious way of telling others to keep off. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman, and the feminine side of McCall enjoyed (and expected) him to open doors for her, let her go first, and allow him to slide her chair in and out for her when they went to dinner that wasn't from a corner hot dog stand or Chinese takeout.

He often wondered if she felt the same sizzle that he did when he touched the small of her back after he opened a door for her, or when he held her hand as tears streamed down her face in the police-issue unmarked green Dodge after an especially difficult homicide investigation.

He swallowed the final gulp of his beer and crushed the can, tossing it into a refuse container not too far from where he was seated in the warm sand. Not much of a drinker, Hunter realized that two casual beers while sitting in the hot California sun was NOT a good idea. His head swam with a slight buzz, and he shook it off as McCall turned and motioned for him to join her. Cold water was just what his buzzed brain and tightened groin needed, and he pulled his long body out of his chair and sauntered over to her.

"You're gonna burn," she said, and he swore that her dark eyes smiled with appreciation while they appraised his tanned body.

"Nah," he said. "I'll put a shirt on when I go back up." He gave her body a quick once-over now that he was nearer, noticing that her usual creamy white skin was now a light golden bronze. The few days on the beach with the Hunter family had been good to her. The sea spray clung to her in fine droplets of water. He swallowed hard as he skimmed her toned arms, the gentle swell of her breasts molded by her bikini top, her flat abdomen that swelled into slightly rounded hips, followed by beautiful legs that he knew would feel oh-so-good wrapped around his waist. He silently cursed his body and male hormones. He strode out into the ocean in front of her and dove into the next big wave that came his way. He turned after wiping the water off of his face, to find her right in front of him, as she had followed him into the ocean waters.

"Don't get my hair wet," she said softly, closing her eyes as the swell of a wave broke right in front of her. "That feels so good," she said. "It is so hot today."

She had no idea.

They stood together for less than 30 seconds before a large wave rolled toward them. "Jump!" he ordered, forgetting she was 12 inches shorter than he was. So much for not getting her hair wet, he thought with a chuckle, as the wave swallowed her, pulling her under. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him as she coughed and sputtered.

"Didn't anyone teach you to always keep your mouth shut when you're in the ocean?" he asked, teasing her. She floated in front of him as another wave brought more water swirling around them, pushing her into him. Hunter almost choked as he felt her legs wrap around him in an effort to steady herself – something he had just thought about a few minutes earlier, although he had envisioned her legs wrapped around him in his bed while he was diving deep inside her. His arms went around her as yet another wave pushed her into his chest, and she giggled in his ear as he battled to keep them both above water. And then suddenly, her laughter stopped.

With her legs still wrapped around him, the force of the last wave pushed her pelvis into his, and she felt the evidence of his arousal. And he knew the minute that she recognized it, because her eyes grew wide and her mouth slacked open with surprise. Her breathing became ragged, and the air between them grew thick. She quickly unwrapped herself, almost launching herself from his embrace back into the water. "I think I've had enough," she murmured, turning and making her way toward the beach.

"Fuck," he said to himself, and he swam around in the ocean for a while until his erection deflated in the cold sea water. When he returned, she had put on her beach cover and was gathering her things.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Um, I think it best if I go home," she said, purposely avoiding looking into his eyes.

Hunter stood in front of her, his hands resting on his hips as he cocked them to one side. "Why? This is supposed to be a weeklong reunion, and we've only been here three days."

She stood to her full height of 5'6" and looked straight at him. "You know why," she said softly, and he noticed her bottom lip tremble. "I can't . . . . I can't do this."

McCall turned to walk away but he was too quick. He grabbed her arm gently to stop her. "Please, don't leave." He gulped in frustration. "I want you to stay."

"Hunter -," she muttered, her voice laced with exasperation.

"What?" he demanded. "I can't help it. I'm a man. Consider it a compliment." He lowered his voice so the others didn't hear. "I'm a human being and I appreciate what I see," he tried to explain, and he lowered his gaze to the beautiful woman in front of him. "I can't help how I feel any more than you can help it that you're so goddamned beautiful."

Her mouth slacked open in surprise for the second time.

"I'm sorry," he continued.

"I'm sorry too," she said, her voice hushed and low. Her bottom lip trembled, and Hunter was shocked to see her eyes brim with unshed tears. He stepped toward her and used his thumbs to wipe away a stray tear that leaked out of each eyelid and down each cheek.

And without thinking (which was a normal Hunter-esque action when it came to McCall) he leaned down to kiss her. He heard her swift intake of breath as he lightly met her lips with his, slowly brushing them against hers in a feather light whisper. He felt her palms rest on his chest, as if to steady herself as his lips continued to brush over hers, trying to gauge a response from her. She stood stock still, unwilling to participate. Alarm bells went off in his head, and he knew he needed to pull away. And just as he began to come to his senses, a small whimper of pleasure emerged from her throat as her lips moved underneath his. He snaked his arm around her back, and as he increased the pressure of his lips against hers, her mouth opened and her tongue gently grazed his own.

Suddenly, she pulled her mouth away and stepped away from his grasp, her eyes wide with a mixture of sultry pleasure, surprise and - was it horror? She put the back of her hand against her mouth as she looked at him, her dark eyes looking as forlorn as a pup taken from its mother.

"This is why I have to leave," she finally said. "We can't . . . . We shouldn't be . . ." she stammered, before turning and running through the sand to where her car was parked. Hunter fought the urge to chase her down and demand an explanation, but instead, he turned and sat in his beach chair, not following her. He knew what she would say. His shoulders curved with dejection and self-disgust. How could he have done that? He should have learned from the first time. It had been a fucking disaster.

Crash and burn. McCall reclined in her garden bath tub in a mountain of Jasmine-scented bubbles surrounding her up to her neck. The glass of wine in her hand, which was coincidentally her third of the evening, had relaxed her muscles, but not her brain.

That kiss.

A liquid heat spread in her lower abdomen as she thought about it. She could still feel Hunter's touch and the feel of his tongue as it invaded her mouth. She wanted him. And it was physically obvious that he wanted her.

But there was no way that she would travel that road again. It happened once before, about 18 months earlier, and it had been 18 months of pure torture ever since. Since then, every woman he dated, or mentioned, was like a stake through her heart. Especially that blonde bitch, Megan Malone. God, she hated her with every cell in her body. McCall hated very few people. But of those few, Megan Malone was on the top of her list. She was everything that McCall wasn't - tall, blonde, obnoxious and overbearing. She never understood what Hunter saw in her.

But that was in the past, she reminded herself. And she wanted to keep it that way. The friendship she shared with Hunter was too pure, too perfect, to give up for the sake of sex. She hadn't had the pleasure of a man's intimate company since that night with Hunter. No one else compared to him, and she couldn't manage to let herself go with anyone else.

Cursed indeed. Damn him. Damn him for loving her. Damn him for confusing her. And she would be damned for falling in love with him.

She hadn't expected a long-term relationship from him. She didn't expect marriage, or a family. Not any kind of commitment. But when she returned from Quantico, she wanted to talk it out, see if there was anything to be salvaged. What she got was the cold shoulder from Hunter and a triumphant smile from Megan Malone. And once that woman was out of the picture and back to her own precinct where she belonged, the duo of Hunter and McCall fell back into their same routine of cops and robbers.

With the third glass of wine gone and the bath water growing cold, McCall heaved herself out of the bath tub. Primping always makes a girl feel better; she reminded herself after she thoroughly rubbed scented cream into her skin and then dropped a pale pink nightie over her head. She no sooner tied the sash of the matching robe when she heard a knock at her front door. Her stomach dropped. It could only be one person.

Hunter.

"Let me in, Dee Dee," he said outside the door.

She opened it and saw him standing there, a dozen pink roses in his large hands. The tall sergeant gazed appreciatively at her, starting with the dark curls on top of her head down to the tips of her painted toe nails.

"Hi," she said softly. "Aren't you supposed to be at a family reunion?"

He strode past her, not waiting for an invitation. Not that it had ever stopped him before. "There are three more days of reunion activities, and personally, I cannot stand one more interrogation from my aunts on your whereabouts." He turned and offered the roses to her. "Peace offering."

She frowned. Peace offering? "No need," she said softly, accepting the bundle of flowers and closing her eyes as she inhaled the fragrant scent.

"I think there is a need," he said softly. He followed her to her kitchen where she deposited the flowers into a large vase and filled it with water. Once the vase was set on the table, McCall took the wine bottle from her fridge and began to pour her fourth glass of the night. She would need it, she figured.

"Want some?" she asked thickly, noticing that the alcohol of earlier was starting to affect her.

"How much of this have you had?" he asked, taking the wine bottle from her grasp and checking the fill line, knowing full well that this was not her first. Her voice was throaty and her eyes were the windows of her soul, and right now, the windows looked to be swimming in a flood of wine.

"This will be four, I believe," she said, taking a sip. "Can I get you a glass?

"Humph," he grunted. "No, I don't think so." He followed her to the living room and sat down on the opposite side of her couch from where she was sitting, her feet curled underneath her. Her pink tongue swept her bottom lip after she took another sip of her wine, and the action sent a spark of desire through him.

He squirmed.

"So, what brings you here?" she asked.

"Lookit, I made a blunder of monumental proportions somewhere," he admitted. "I want to apologize for kissing you on the beach, first of all. I lost my head, I guess. I just . . . . I just don't know what exactly I did to make you mad at me all the time."

She stared at him, not saying a word. She drained the rest of her wine glass – most likely for liquid courage – and then rested her hands on her lap. She opened her mouth for a brief second as if to say something, but then closed it as tight as a clam. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her left hand and closed her eyes, searching for the right words.

"Rick - (he loved it when she called him by his first name) – sometimes I wonder where you brain is." And then her gaze drifted to his zipper. "No wait, forget it, I do."

He felt his anger flare. Okay, she was right to some degree. He liked his women friends on a casual basis. Someone to take to dinner on occasion, or slake his desires when he was in need. These were women who were like him – not seeking a romantic relationship, but rather a relationship of sexual convenience. McCall teased him about his romantic escapades. But what she didn't know is that since "that night" the escapades had come to a screeching halt.

"You're wrong, McCall," he responded, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've ruined me."

He got the reaction he was hoping for. She turned and stared at him, her mouth agape with surprise. "What do you mean, I ruined you?"

"Oh come on, you can't sit there and tell me that the night we spent together didn't change you? Ever since then, I haven't been able to be with anyone else." The words poured out of him, shocking even himself. "So don't sit there thinking that I'm out having meaningless fuckery with half the single women of Los Angeles, because I'm not." He leaned over toward her. "And judging from your date calendar, it's a safe bet that you're in the same boat that I've been sailing. So, I guess it's safe to say that we're in a jackpot together, aren't we?"

He struck a nerve.

And then a smirk arrived on her face, lifting up a corner of her mouth as she tried to stifle a giggle. "Wait a minute . . . . . . you expect me to believe that it has been almost two years since you've had sex? Give me a break!"

Hunter's groin twitched. His reflexes were much quicker than hers, which were now impaired from four glasses of wine within the last two hours. She shrieked as he quickly, yet gently, took hold of her arm and managed to pull her onto his lap in mere seconds. He grabbed her hand and placed it on the hot bulge under his jeans. "This is what you have done to me," he whispered, his voice now low and thick with desire. "I've been broken for a long time."

"But . . . after . . . you moved on," she responded, tears burning her eyelids. "With Megan . . ."

Hunter snorted as his hand gently rubbed the small of her back through the satin material of her robe. "Megan Malone? Give me a break." He scoffed. That woman grated at his nerves. Haughty bitch. The fact that she moved on to Lieutenant status on his and McCall's coattails after the Glazer case always rubbed him the wrong way. And he took great pleasure in knowing that Megan Malone was on McCall's hatred list.

McCall took his free hand and held it, and despite feeling the evidence of his arousal under her thigh, she knew they had to deal with the white elephant in the room once and for all. "Rick, I know what happened between us wasn't planned, and I told myself that it was a one-time thing."

He was mesmerized by her voice, her scent, and the feel of her small hand caressing his own.

"But I couldn't stop thinking about it, or you, but you never wanted to talk about it. And when I got back, there was Megan, everywhere you went, and I couldn't reconnect with you." He frowned as a stray tear edged out of the corner of her eye. "I thought . . . I thought maybe it didn't mean anything to you." She shuddered as a sob erupted from within her, and his heart burst into pieces when he realized the depths of her sadness. "It hurt, Rick. And after today . . . . at the beach . . . . I knew where we were heading, and I don't want to go there again."

"Dee Dee, there was never anything between Megan Malone and me. NEVER. EVER." He pulled her toward him and held her close, reveling in her familiar scent of Jasmine and the feel of her dark curls under his chin. "I thought that maybe you didn't want to talk about it and you wanted to leave it somewhere safe, because you always told me over and over again – I will never be with another cop. So, I left it alone, and tucked it away. But unfortunately, that tucked away memory was enough of a monkey on my back to keep me away from every other woman that crossed my path, because none of them were you."

She gently pushed herself away from him so that she could look at his face. He pulled his hand away from her and brushed the wet tears from her cheeks. "I never meant to hurt you," he said finally. "I was trying to NOT hurt you. Understand?"

"And now?" she whispered. She unconsciously fidgeted in his lap, and Hunter winced with sexual discomfort.

"Now, I'm thinking that no other woman will ever take your place," he said softly. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to give you what you want or need . . . but I'm willing to risk it all to try."

Within mere seconds, he stroked his way up her spine so that his hand rested behind her neck, and he gently pulled her toward him. His lips met hers, and he increased the pressure behind her neck, her mouth opened, and he reveled in the taste of her. It was the sweetness of McCall mixed with wine, and he suddenly grew concerned that he was taking advantage of her. He pulled away, his breathing labored already.

"I want you," she whispered, and her eyes were as clear and focused as they had ever been. She straddled his lap and met him for another kiss. His arms wrapped around her and his heart leaped when a groan of pleasured delight emerged from her throat. Their need was urgent, and Hunter felt strangled inside his jeans. Her nimble fingers had already unbuttoned his shirt and he was untying the sash of her robe as she pulled the shirt down and off his shoulders.

Hunter did the same with her robe, and after he pushed it down, he ran his hands lightly up her satiny smooth legs and under the hem of her short, silky nightgown. He realized she was naked underneath, and his cock jerked in realization.

"You have too many clothes on," she whispered, and made quick work of his belt and zipper. She stood up briefly and he lifted his hips so that she could pull off his jeans and boxer briefs in one quick motion. Her mouth went slack when she saw him, completely naked, and her desire mixed with his to make the room seem hot and heavy.

"Now you have too many clothes on," he added, and in one swift motion, he pulled her back onto his lap and he pulled the nightgown over her head. His hands traveled up her ribcage to her breasts, and he teased them with his fingers as he devoured her mouth with another long, deep kiss. He reached around her back to support her as his mouth traveled down toward one breast, suckling her gently at first before he increased the pressure. Her skin was sweet and soft . . . . everything that he remembered and couldn't get out of his brain all of these long, lonely months. Her head tipped back as she groaned with pleasure, and her hips began to move over him. His erection jutted out in front of him, and as he continued to caress her breasts with his mouth, she used her right hand to gently stroke him. He groaned as she manipulated him from root to tip, her thumb brushing the pre-cum that leaked off the tip like a pearl over the head and swirling it around and around, making him shiver with need.

He brought his mouth back to her lips and gently reached down between his legs where she was straddled and parted over him. She was slick, hot and swollen, and he felt her shudder as he found the spot that made her tremble. He had memorized every centimeter of her body all those months ago, and he remembered exactly what made her scream with pleasure. Her calves gripped his thighs as she moved against him, seeking what would fulfill her.

"Please," she begged him. He slid one long finger inside of her, and increased the pressure and speed of his thumb. She was so tight. And seconds later, she crashed and burned, her inner muscles squeezing his finger with the power of her climax. She was still contracting around his finger when he removed it and raised her hips, spreading her thighs wider to make their coupling easier.

"Easy," he whispered as he strained for some shred of self-control. He was glad he made her come without him, because once she was fully sheathed, he wouldn't last long. She hissed as he guided her hips downward. She was extremely tight, and he held his breath as she slowly lowered herself over him.

He was huge. This she remembered. And it still amazed her at how her own body stretched to accommodate him. She closed her eyes as he filled and stretched her to the point of bursting. She moved her palms up his ribcage and held onto him for support as she spread her thighs wider. She gasped as she felt him swell inside of her even more, and she could feel him against the soft, spongy tip of her cervix.

She knew he felt it too, and she closed her eyes as realization set in. They weren't protected.

"Rick, I'm not . . ." she began, but it was too late. He was already moving inside of her. The pleasure rolled over her in waves, and she felt sweat break out on his skin as he tried to control his own release. The cords of muscle in his neck were strained, and as she placed her lips against the soft spot where his neck met his collar bone, she could feel the fast and furious beating of his heart and his blood rushing through his veins.

"Jesus," he muttered. "I need all of you." And in one motion, he managed to remain locked inside of her as he maneuvered her to her back. She locked her legs around his naked waist and gasped as he lifted her pelvis with one hand and slipped even deeper. "Oh, God," he choked out. "I can't . . . I can't pull out," and she felt him shudder and erupt inside of her. She felt his liquid heat fill the deepest recesses of her body, holding him close as he jerked inside of her again and again.

He collapsed against her, and she stroked him gently until he gathered his composure. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. "This is what you do to me," he whispered. "You make me lose all control."

She smiled at him, and she gasped as he pulled out of her. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned. She shook her head, no. He lifted her into his arms and strode into her bedroom. He stood her up to pull the covers from the bed, and she looked down to see remnants of their lovemaking slide down the inside of her leg. He grabbed a tissue from her end stand and as she reclined in the bed, he quickly wiped it off.

He took her into his arms and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"For what?"

"For not being prepared. For not having more control." He stroked the side of her face gently. "Look at me," he said quietly. She opened her eyes. "What are the chances that I got one past the goalie?" She sighed. "I need to know."

"Well, if we were trying, this would have been a good time to do it."

He rolled on to his back and sighed. She rolled toward him and leaned up on her elbow to look down at him. "It was only once, Rick. Most likely, it will be okay."

"Do you know how many of my buddies in high school became fathers after 'only once'"?

She felt tears burn her eyelids. She had no intention of being with him in the Biblical sense that night, and he obviously didn't, either. They were unprepared. But neither of them were teenagers. He was 43 years old and she was 33. They knew how babies were made and where they came from. The thought of it was a dream she had buried a long time ago with Steve. But as Hunter broached the subject, it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Would it be that bad?" she asked finally.

He met her gaze and saw her lip tremble. Crash and burn. No, he couldn't allow it to happen again. He wouldn't. Something inside of his brain decided to man up. He leaned up and gently pushed her to her back, her dark hair fanning on the white pillow behind her head. He trailed his fingertips lightly down past her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts, and to her flat belly, where he rested his palm against it, letting her feel the heat of his hand seep into her. It dawned on him that within the few minutes that had passed since he made love to her, it was possible that his unleashed sperm were already knocking at the door of an egg lying in wait amidst the soft, feminine folds of her body. He closed his eyes, and he felt her hand close over his, that was still resting on her abdomen. Maybe she was already pregnant, and he felt his heart speed up with alarm bells sounding off in his head. Would it be so bad, she had asked.

He looked down at her and pressed a light kiss to her forehead and then to her lips. He cleared his throat. "No, it wouldn't be that bad. Not with you."

Crash and burn. He did, and he realized that was the nature of their relationship. Crash and burn. There were times when the crash was horrible and the burn was so hot that is scarred them both. There were others where the crash was a surprise, but the burn warmed them both from the inside out. He would make sure this was one of those times.


	2. Chapter 2

Poor McCall - seems like she is always the one getting hurt! :(

Hunter stared at McCall from across his desk. She was diligently working on the current case, looking calm, cool and collected. No one would have guessed that early this morning when he found her puking her guts out in the bathroom.

"Jesus Christ," he said when he found her at 5:30 a.m., on her knees in front of the toilet with one arm holding on to the bowl and the other clenched around her belly. He held her dark hair back as she retched again. His own stomach churned as she choked, but he managed to hold it together. Her breathing was fast and ragged, and just when he thought it was safe, her body trembled and she hurled again, and finished by gasping for air.

"Easy," he soothed as he rung out a clean cloth with cool water and laid it on the back of her neck. "Just relax, catch your breath," he urged her. She leaned her head forward and rested it against the cool porcelain.

"Oh God, this is awful," she said quietly, before slowly standing to rinse her mouth in the sink followed by a quick swirl of mint mouthwash.

Hunter grunted in response. She had been worshiping the porcelain god every day for the past three weeks. It happened at anytime, anywhere. There were no warnings and so far, nothing to stop it. Two weeks ago in the middle of dinner at her favorite restaurant, one time over a guard rail on the freeway, and just yesterday in a garbage can in the precinct parking lot as soon as he shifted the car into park.

He put his arm around her shoulders and helped her to the bed, where she rolled to her side and curled up into a ball. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes watering now from tears. "I'm sorry . . ." she whispered.

He stopped her mid-sentence. "Don't go there," he ordered, and he watched her swallow hard. He lay beside her and took her into his arms. "You know this will go away eventually." He kissed the top of her head and waited for her to relax. "In about 6 more months you'll look back on this and say it was worth it, right?" That's what everyone had been telling him, at least.

He felt her shudder against him. "Yes," she said softly. She pulled away to look at him. "But will you? "

"Will I what?" he responded. He saw her look of uncertainty. It was painted all over her ashen face. He was trying to be strong. He was trying to be supportive. Especially because he was the other half responsible for this. She certainly didn't do it on her own.

"Will you think it was worth it? I know . . . I know that this isn't what you signed on for."

"I don't think either of us did," he said honestly. "But I'm getting used to it. Promise." He gave her a brave smile and placed another gentle kiss on her head for good measure.

She rolled over onto her back and feathered her fingers lightly over her stomach. It still felt the same to her. She was startled to feel Hunter's hands graze the top of hers. She turned her head to look at him where he lay on the pillow next to her, watching her.

"It's kinda hard to believe," he said softly.

McCall smiled at him. "Yeah. I actually forget I'm pregnant until I start barfing up a lung."

Hunter took one of her hands into his and ran his fingers from the tips of hers to her elbow. He could feel her bones. "You are much too thin," he observed. "I want a fat baby." And then he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the soft skin below her belly button.

She looked down at him in amazement. This was the first time that he actually acknowledged or shown any emotion or – could it be love? – toward the new life she was carrying inside of her. She had fallen in love from the minute she knew it existed. But Hunter? It was a hard sell.

"Yeah, well, if I could keep anything down, I wouldn't have this problem," she said. "Don't worry, I'll be as big as a yacht in no time." Her comment roused a chuckle out of him. "Don't laugh. Because by then, you probably won't want me."

Hunter's blue eyes darkened a few shades, causing her to shiver with sexual anticipation. "I don't ever want you to think I won't want you," he said huskily. "And if you weren't sick as a dog, I'd show you that right now."

She rolled over toward him and hitched her thigh over his leg. "Suddenly, I feel a lot better," she whispered. She met him for a searing kiss, and the nausea that plagued her earlier was suddenly erased. Her pregnancy-induced fatigue and nausea had put their sex life on the back burner, and she suddenly was ravenous for him for the first time in weeks.

It was fast and furious, neither of them wanting to wait, and 20 minutes later she was sound asleep in his arms. He would have to wake her soon to get ready for work, and truth be known, he would prefer that she stay home and sleep. He lay there, stroking her naked back gently. He smiled when he looked down at her, admiring how her breasts had become fuller and heavier in the past several weeks. Definitely a plus. He gently grazed his fingertips over her naked hip to her lower belly, and now that she was lying on her side, he could feel the tiny curve of her abdomen that was starting to make its presence known.

"Hunter? Hey, Hunter?" called the voice from across the desk, bringing Hunter out of his reminiscent thoughts from earlier that morning.

He smiled at McCall, who was raising a dark eyebrow at him along with a knowing look. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked. "I've been watching you for the last minute and you look like the cat that ate the canary."

He smiled at her, flashing his dimples, and she shivered when she got the same mischievous look from him that she had earlier that morning. "Just reminiscing about some early-morning festivities." She shook her head and her cheeks flushed. Her dark eyes looked up at him and she lowered her voice as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered. "Everyone will know."

Hunter chuckled, got out of his chair and came over to sit on her desk right next to her. His voice was low and thick. "Sweetheart, I hate to break this to you, but very soon, everyone is going to know whether we tell them or not."

She leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow at him once again. "Ready to show off your handiwork, eh?" she teased. And then he followed her gaze to Captain Charlie Devane's office. "He's gonna flip, you know."

Hunter's shoulders sagged. Yes, he sure was. "Well, let's go get some lunch and talk about our plan of attack."

Findley's Grill was just down the block from the station. They walked together, holding hands, not caring who saw them. Hunter knew the jig would be up soon anyway, and simply put, he didn't fucking care who saw them. He was in love, and he didn't care who knew it.

He never saw the car. He had let her hand go only briefly when she turned around to pick up the paper she had dropped out of her pocket. He was already halfway across the street and turned to see where she had gone. It came out of nowhere. Tires screeched and people screamed. His life turned to slow motion as the car slammed into her, and she went flying onto the car's hood, into the windshield and then bounced onto the pavement.

"Oh my God," Hunter screamed. He was the first to get to her. She was crumpled on the pavement, not moving. Someone behind him was already calling 9-1-1. "Dee Dee?" he said, bending down near her ear. He called her name over and over, and that was when he saw the blood oozing from her head. He lay a shaky finger to her neck, and her pulse was weak. "Stay with me," he said, and then murmured thanks to a bystander who brought a blanket to cover her.

"Jesus Christ!" yelled a voice he knew, and suddenly Brad Navarro and Charlie Devane were crouched beside him. "We were on our way back from Findley's and heard the commotion. What the hell happened?" Charlie asked.

Hunter could hear a scuffle, and Brad Navarro's chilling voice could be heard. "Get the fuck out of the car, you scumbag!" Hunter heard. He closed his eyes, replaying it in his mind while he heard Navarro in the background, handcuffing and screaming Miranda Rights at a middle-aged man who was drunk out of his mind. "You have the right to remain silent, asshole! You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning, and I totally suggest you have one because you'll go to the gas chamber if she dies! Do you understand these rights, you motherfucker?"

McCall lay there, motionless, and Hunter wouldn't let go of her limp hand, not until the EMTs arrived within minutes and pulled him away. His heart wanted to pick her up and hold her close, to will the life into her, but his brain knew better, and he didn't dare move her. Holding her hand and stroking her cheek was the best he could do for now, and it was killing him.

"33-year-old female, blunt force trauma due to a car-pedestrian accident, respirations are weak, BP 70 over 38 and dropping . . . . . ."

Hunter stood there with Devane and Navarro on either side of him, watching helplessly as they worked on her. "She's pregnant," he told the EMT, and he heard Devane gasp.

"How far along?" the EMT questioned.

Hunter hung his head and succumbed to unfamiliar tears. "Fourteen weeks," he choked out.

The EMT relayed the information to the hospital and Hunter watched in horror as they gently rolled her over to a backboard and onto a gurney. "We're losing her, I'm not getting a good pressure here," the EMT yelled to the other, and it was all Brad and Charlie could do to keep Hunter back as he strained to get nearer. He watched them tilt her head back and tube her, and then load her in the ambulance while one of the paramedics squeezed the air bag methodically to breathe life into her. "See you at Wilshire Memorial, Sergeant," the EMT told him before he shut the back of the ambulance door. "They've already got an OR ready for her, so go straight to the 7th floor." And no sooner did the doors slam, she was whisked away with lights and sirens.

Charlie pushed him toward a squad car waiting to follow the ambulance with Hunter along for the ride. "Get going," Devane told him. "I'll be there as soon as I can."


	3. Chapter 3

Hunter sat in silence in the large waiting room on the 7th floor, his elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands. He was surrounded by Charlie, Navarro, Kitty O'Hearn and Lt. Ambrose Finn. Kitty sat next to him, her arm around him and slowly and gently moving over his back in an effort to keep him calm. They had been sitting there for going on four hours, and they heard nothing other than McCall was taken directly into surgery.

Suddenly a nurse arrived to tell them that she was still in surgery and a surgeon would talk with him as soon as he could. She offered no other information to Hunter's questioning eyes.

Devane cleared his throat. "Well, she's fighting. That's good news," he offered. Then he looked at Hunter thoughtfully. "What happened?"

Hunter swallowed hard. He wanted to forget it, but he couldn't. He kept seeing it over and over again, like a black and white film. "We uh, we were going to get some lunch. She uh, hasn't been feeling well lately and uh, when she tells me she's hungry I take that opportunity to make sure she eats."

_I want a fat baby_. Hunter closed his eyes as his own words from earlier that morning swam around in his head. An unfamiliar tear rolled down his cheek, and he felt Kitty hold his hand and squeeze it. His heart was squeezing and his chest was tight. His world was crashing down around him.

He sniffed and went on. "I was holding her hand, and she said she dropped something out of her pocket, and she let go and went back for it. I turned around, and uh . . . . " he shuddered as the memory flashed in front of him. "This car just came flying around the corner. Out of nowhere. It didn't stop. He just plowed right into her."

"I'm so sorry, Hunter," Devane said. "She's strong. She'll pull through this."

Another two hours passed, and finally two physicians showed up in bright blue scrubs, surgical masks hanging around their necks. "Sergeant Hunter," one called to him, offering his hand. Hunter shook it, but his eyes were searching for answers.

"I'm Dr. Reynolds, and this is Dr. Santos. We just operated on Sergeant McCall."

"How is she?" he asked, his throat tight. He felt Kitty's hand still holding his, and he felt Navarro standing to his left in a show of support.

"Well, it was touch and go. She was in pretty bad shape. She had a lot of internal damage and she required several transfusions. We had to remove her spleen and stop the bleeding from her liver, which sustained a contusion from the force of the car that hit her. She also sustained some pretty heavy head trauma, but thankfully it's a hairline skull fracture that will heal. We were concerned that there was maybe a brain bleed or something worse, but a CT scan has ruled that out. She has some cracked ribs and a broken arm as well. She is in recovery and will be moved to ICU in a few hours once she stabilizes. The next 24 to 48 hours will be very critical, but barring any unforeseen complications, we would expect that she will recover."

Hunter gulped. "And uh . . . what about . . . she was pregnant."

The doctor shook his head. "I'm very sorry. The trauma was just too severe. The force of the car basically severed the placenta from the uterine wall immediately. She lost the baby before she even got here. There was nothing we could do. I'm sorry."

Hunter simply nodded his head. Tears burned behind his eyes. "I know how difficult this must be, and I know this is going to be hard on her as well," the physician continued. "But I do want you to know that in time, when she is ready, she will be able to have another child. The force of the impact is what caused her to lose the baby. She was spared any damage to her reproductive organs. Again, please accept my sympathies."

After the doctors left, Hunter just stood there with his brethren, who were at a loss for words. He cleared his throat and sat down. "Well, so I guess you guys pretty much know."

"Hunter, you don't owe us any explanations."

"We were going to lunch to discuss how we were going to tell everyone," he said. He closed his eyes, thinking back to when she was asleep in his arms earlier that morning, and how he noticed the slight curve of her belly. "She uh, was starting to show a little, and we figured it was time we let the cat out of the bag."

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with grief. The car may have injured her, but losing her baby was going to kill her.

"Rick, I am so sorry," Kitty said. "I didn't know that you two . . . . were together. But I think it's great." He looked up at her and met her gaze. "She's going to need you more than ever. Dee Dee and I have been friends since the Academy, and I know her so well. I know how much that baby had to have meant to her."

Hunter could only nod his head. "Yeah, well . . . it's not something we planned, that's for sure. It just . . . . happened." He thought for a moment. "She was so happy."

His thoughts went back to eight weeks ago, when he found her on the deck of his house, standing there alone, looking at the ocean.

_He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. She turned and looked at him, and tears welled up in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked. _

_"I'm pregnant," she whispered._

_He told himself that he was preparing for this moment. He knew in the back of his head for weeks that this was a possibility. Now it was reality. He took both of her hands into his, and wordlessly encouraged her to keep talking. "I uh, went to the doctor today. I actually took a home test last week, and it was positive."_

_Hunter frowned. "Wait a minute. You suspected you were pregnant, took a test, and knew for a week without telling me first?"_

_"I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure," she said defensively. "I know this isn't something you wanted to hear."_

_He turned around and paced on the deck a few minutes before turning around and taking hold of her shoulders with both of his hands. "From this moment on, I want to know everything, do you understand? This baby is mine, too."_

_She looked at him with wide eyes. "You're not mad?"_

_"No. Freaked out, yes. But not mad." He watched the corners of her lips turn upward in a slight smile, and she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh._

_"Freaked out?" _

_"Yeah, freaked out." And then he took her into his arms and held her. "How about you? I didn't even think to ask you."_

_"Freaked out," she said softly. "I know we didn't plan this . . . and I'm still kind of having a hard time believing it's real. But I'm happy."_

_He pulled away and framed her face with both hands. And then he kissed her. "We make a good couple, freaked out and everything." She smiled at him. "I love you," he whispered to her. _

_"I love you more."_

Ever since that time, he did everything he could to make things easier, and they had several soul-searching discussions about their future. They agreed to remain status quo for the moment. They also agreed to keep their secret to themselves for a while so that they could get used to the idea before others bombarded them with questions and well-intentioned advice.

Two hours after he met with the surgeons, he found himself standing in the threshold of the surgical ICU. His feet were like cement blocks. He couldn't move. She was barely recognizable through the tubes and wires. He slowly moved closer, and her bruised and swollen face came into view. The side that hit the pavement was scraped and bloodied, black and blue, with her eye almost swollen shut.

A tube going out from under the blanket was draining blood and other fluid into a round container, and yet another was draining her kidneys. Her right arm was in a cast, and another machine was helping her to breathe. He moved a chair right next to her and took her good hand into both of his and kissed her knuckles gently.

And then he cried.


	4. Chapter 4

"You look like hell. How's McCall?" Charlie asked Hunter. Charlie was nothing but direct. It had been 48 hours, and she was still not awake. "Have you even had a shower or change of clothes?" Hunter pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to adjust his eyes to the light in the waiting room where had fallen asleep on a couch.

"No, I haven't left since the accident," Hunter replied. "She's holding her own."

"Let me buy you supper and get you home for a few hours to shower, change and rest. You aren't going to be of any help to her if you're falling over."

"I can't leave, Charlie. I want to be the first one she sees when she opens her eyes. "

"Humph," Charlie retorted. He sat down next to Hunter and heaved a sigh. "I uh, know this isn't going to be much of a consolation, but the D.A. is crucifying the sonofabitch who hit McCall. They charged him with DUI, assault with a motor vehicle, and every traffic violation known to man. This was his 4th DUI and they are throwing the book at him. He won't be out of jail for a long time."

"Thanks, Charlie. You're right, it doesn't change anything, but at least I know he'll be put away for a long time."

"I uh, wanted you to know that the D.A. also wants to press an involuntary manslaughter charge on him. But he wants to get your and McCall's input first. He goes to a prelim next week, so the charges have to be bound by then."

"Involuntary mansl . . . . " Hunter questioned, stopping before he could finish the last word. "The baby."

Devane hung his head. "Yeah. The D.A. thinks the driver should have to pay the price for the miscarriage, since it was the result of the crash."

"I dunno Charlie, that's going to be difficult to stick. She was only 14 weeks."

"But it was still a life, and one that was already loved not only by her, but you. He should pay a high price for that."

They were interrupted by a nurse. "Sgt. Hunter? She's starting to wake up. Do you want to come in?"

"I'll think about it Charlie," Hunter said as he rose to go to McCall. His shoulders slumped. He turned and looked at his friend. "This is going to be the worst thing I've ever had to do."

"She's strong, Hunter. Love her a lot, and it will all work out."

Hunter held her hand as the doctors brought her out of sedation. Her dark eyes opened, and he could tell they were unfocused. And after she said she knew her name and her birthday, they asked her some others.

"Do you know where you are?"

Her voice was weak, but steady. "Hospital."

"Do you know who this is beside you, holding your hand?" She slowly shifted her eyes to Hunter, and smiled weakly.

"Rick."

"Good. Do you know why you're here?"

She tightened her grip around Hunter's hand. "Car. Hit me."

"Yes, you were hit by a drunk driver," Dr. Reynolds said slowly to make sure she understood. "You've been here for three days. We had to remove your spleen and you had some head trauma, plus a broken arm."

She turned her head and looked at Hunter more intently. The look in her eyes told him that he would be spared having to tell her the awful truth. Somehow, some way, she already knew.

"The baby . . . it's gone?" she said matter-of-factly, her voice now barely a whisper.

Hunter swallowed hard and stroked her hand. "It was too much," he said quietly. "The baby was too young to survive that. I'm so sorry," he said.

Tears rand down her cheeks in rivers, and Hunter managed to find a way to embrace her and continue holding her despite the tubes and wires. She sobbed in his arms while his own heart broke into a million pieces.

"How's it going, Hunter?"

The tall sergeant collapsed in Charlie Devane's office chair. With as many times as Hunter sat there over the years for various reasons, he felt that he and the chair in Charlie's office had become one with each other. First, it was Captain Cain. Then it was Captain Wyler who would give him grief. Now, the chair was like an old, familiar friend when it was just him and Devane. It was after 11 p.m.

"Not that good, Charlie."

"How's McCall?"

Hunter closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a deep breath and exhaling long and hard. He was relieved that this was a friend-to-friend conversation, and he could relax. It had been six months since the accident. McCall had returned to work three months ago, but was reassigned automatically as per regulations. He was grateful that she was given her first choice in juvenile probation, located in the same building as metro homicide. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend.

"If I knew, I'd tell ya."

Devane looked at Hunter and shook his head. "Can't expect miracles, I guess. I know this was hard for her, and just as hard on you."

"Tell her that."

"I know this is personal, and you don't have to answer . . . but are you two still together?"

Hunter had to think about that one. "I guess so. She is just so distant. I can't seem to reach her." Truthfully, he was frustrated as all hell. When she was discharged from the hospital, he took a month off to stay home with her, make sure she got to physical therapy and basically, give her the TLC that he knew she needed. She healed fast physically, but as a couple, they were having a hard time connecting on an emotional level. And their sex life . . . completely fizzled. She wasn't interested.

"Thompson down in Juvenile says she's doing a bang-up job down there. She's kicking ass and taking down names."

"Yeah. She really likes it. She said she didn't realize it at first, but she needed a change. And if it makes her happy, then I'm all for it."

"What about you? Let's cut the bullshit. I'm worried about you, too."

"I just don't know what to do," he said quietly. "We're together as a couple, but she's just so . . . like I said, distant."

"Do you think it's because of the miscarriage?"

"Probably." Hunter tried to talk to her about it a couple of months ago. He wanted to love her and make love to her. He even went out on a very long, unstable limb and mentioned that he would agree to try to have another baby, and she fell apart. No, she said. She wasn't ready.

He didn't want to go home tonight, either. Today was the day their child was due to arrive. They hadn't discussed it, and he wondered if she remembered the significance of the day.

"Today would have been her due date," Hunter said dejectedly.

"Then what are you doing here? She needs you. Get your ass out of here, pick up a bouquet of flowers and head home NOW."

Hunter stood up, and welcomed Charlie's manly pat on his back. "You two will get through this, Hunter. You love each other, and there is no doubt in my mind about that. Love prevails."

Hunter hoped so.

Her car was in the driveway, and the light in the bedroom was on. Hunter picked up the huge bouquet of wildflowers that he chose just for her. He silently wondered if this was a good thing. But he had a plan: If she remembered the significance of today, then he would hopefully get her to let loose. If she didn't make mention of today, then he would score points for getting her flowers for no reason at all. Win-win all the way around.

He walked in and found her seated on the couch in her robe, watching an old movie. He could smell the scent of her Jasmine bubble bath from where he stood, and it took him back to the memory of the night they spent together that permanently changed their lives forever. Ironically, he had brought her flowers on that occasion, too.

"Hey," he said softly, making his way to her. She turned and saw him, and her eyes grew wide when she saw the bouquet of flowers in his hand. He sat down beside her and offered them. She took them into her hands and inhaled their scent. She held them close to her and looked into his eyes. No words needed to be said. She leaned into him and softly began to cry against his chest.

"You remembered," she said softly, in between some light sniffles.

"Yeah, I remembered. How could I have forgotten?"

"It should have been today."

"I know."

"It's not fair."

"I know that, too. You're right, it's not fair. And I'm so sorry this happened." He took the flowers from her and placed them on the end stand. He pulled her closer and placed a kiss on the top of her head and caressed her back as he held her. "I love you," he whispered. " I would do anything that I could to go back and change it."

She pulled away from him and looked at his blue eyes as tears continued to fall from hers. "I love you," she offered. "And, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the accident. For losing our baby."

"Hey, wait a minute. That wasn't your fault." He was overwhelmed with sadness for her. She blamed herself?

"If I hadn't gone back to get that stupid paper I had dropped . . . "

"Dee Dee, listen to me," he said firmly. "That was NOT your fault. You were hit by a drunk driver! Paper or no paper, he was drunk as a skunk and didn't obey the traffic control devices. You should have been able to pick that up and cross the street with time to spare. I will NOT allow you to blame yourself for this."

He cupped her face with both hands, and wiped her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you." He leaned in to kiss her, and to his delight, she returned it. Eagerly. Her kiss was hungry and devouring. She sighed against him as the kiss became deeper and more urgent. He picked her up and never took his lips from her as he carried her to the bedroom. He set her on her feet next to the bed and slowly peeled her robe down off of her shoulders so that it fell to the floor in a pile of silk.

He backed her up against the mattress and she sat down, grabbing his necktie and pulling him toward her. Within minutes, she had pushed his jacket off of his shoulders along with his shirt and tie so that he was standing before her in just his trousers. Her breathing was hot and heavy, with a desire lit behind her eyes that he hadn't seen in a very long time.

Her need was as great as his. In no time at all, she was naked underneath him, and her pleasured sighs and gasps were music to his ears. He was hard and thick against her thigh, like a runaway train. He groaned when he felt her holding him, hot and heavy in her hand and stroking it the way she knew he liked. "Jesus, Dee," he choked, using the name of endearment that only he had the privilege of using.

McCall felt liquid heat begin to pool in her lower belly, and as Hunter continued to make love to her, it began to spread through her entire body. Only he knew how to make her body sing with pleasure, and she impatiently pushed her pelvis closer to his.

"I need you," she whispered into his ear, pushing even closer.

He was between her thighs and already beginning to enter her, when suddenly she stiffened, tightening her legs around him. "Stop," she whimpered. He broke out into a cold sweat. This couldn't be happening, not now.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, suddenly worried that she was in pain.

She looked into his eyes. "We're not protected," she said to him. Hunter rested his forehead against hers, tried to catch his breath, and took her mouth with his. He groaned in desperation. She was giving him the out. She was letting him know that it was up to him.

"Yeah, I know," he responded softly against her lips.

"What if . . ."

_Crash and burn._ He took a deep breath and began to caress her. She began to relax underneath him, parting her legs again to welcome him back. "I'm not worried about it," he murmured. He looked down at her and kissed her softly as he began to slowly enter her again, filling her. "It is what it is."

She looked into his eyes as he inched his way inside, hot and hard with need. He lay still within her, letting her relax and get used to him all over again. He kissed her long and deep, and when she began to gently rock her hips against him, he joined her rhythm that was accompanied by her soft whimpers of pleasure. She hitched her legs around his waist, entrapping him and allowing him to slip deeper. She gasped when she felt him swell even bigger. He could feel his balls begin to tighten with the threat of release, and he would be damned if he would get pleasure before she did. He began to stroke her, and her breathing immediately quickened with desire. "I can't . . ." she said, gasping, as he increased the pressure and speed of his ministrations. "Please," she begged him.

"Let go," he urged her. "Come for me," he ordered, groaning with the threat of his own release. She suddenly buried her face in his neck and clutched him as she spasmed with a powerful climax, uttering a muffled cry of relief. He jerked inside of her as the contractions of her inner muscles milked him for everything he had to give to her.

Once their breathing slowed, he gathered her into his arms, where they fell into an exhausted sleep in their first ability to heal after six months of solid grief.


	5. Chapter 5

Hunter passed McCall in the hallway at Parker Center. Now that she had been working in the Juvenile Probation division, it wasn't often that they saw each other during the course of the day. He relished these occasions when they unexpectedly ran into each other. But he didn't miss the look in her eyes – a dejected look of disappointment.

"Hey," he said softly, grabbing her elbow and guiding her to a corner. "What's wrong?"

She just shook her head and avoided his gaze, not wanting to make eye contact. "I uh, I got my period today," she said softly, her voice hitching. Hunter knew she was on the verge of tears.

28 days, right on the nose. Damn. They had only had unprotected sex for 3 months and while Hunter wasn't too concerned, it obviously had been wearing on McCall's mind. He sighed and looked at her with compassion and sympathy. He looked at his watch and decided that the meeting he was headed to could be put on hold.

"Meet me at the bench in 15 minutes, okay?" he said, not giving her a choice. "I'll bring lunch."

True to his word, he met her at their bench in the park not too far from the precinct and he handed her a cheeseburger and a lemonade. She checked out his container of raw vegetables adorned with a few cubes of cheese and laughed. "There's something wrong here."

Hunter grinned, and then leaned down for a quick kiss. "There is nothing wrong here at all."

Midway through her cheeseburger, she became pensive. "Rick, do you think I'm defective?"

"What?"

"Defective. Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

He saw her lower lip tremble, and he immediately put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "There is nothing wrong with you," he assured her.

They sat together for a while, and Hunter began to think. He ventured to offer what he thought were words of wisdom and clarification to the matter at hand. "You know, I didn't know that we were trying . . . . . to have a baby." He felt her stiffen.

"Well, we haven't been trying to stop it, either," she said, looking at him with speculation.

"True." He looked down at her. "Lookit, I don't want you to get all caught up in this. If it happens, it happens. I don't think it's time to panic. You were in a really bad accident and maybe your body is still recovering? Did you ever think of that?" He squeezed her shoulders. "It will happen when you're ready."

"You're sure?"

"Yep, and besides, you know I'm always right." He chuckled when she rolled her eyes at him.

Hunter looked for McCall among the large number of family members gathered at his mother's house for Christmas Eve festivities. She had disappeared, but now he found her alone, standing in front of his mother's giant Christmas tree set up in his Dad's old den. This was his mother's "special tree" decorated by using long extension ladders to hang old world ornaments that his grandparents had brought to America from Italy. McCall loved this tree, and ever since she had been invited to share every Christmas Eve celebration with his family, she spent significant time studying it. It seemed that every year, she found one that she hadn't seen before.

Hunter's family was northern Italian, not the stereotypical Sicilian. His parents came to America as children, and his father's last name upon entrance to the country was Cacciatore. Fearing stereotypical typecasting of Italians in the early 1900s, his parents changed their name to the English translation – "Hunter". Rick Hunter came from a long line of blonde, blue-eyed people from the town of Mechesne, near the Austrian border. His parents were proud of their heritage, even though his father got mixed up into things with the family business that weren't quite on the right side of the law. And as time went on, Hunter realized that he wanted to continue the good parts of the Hunter legacy with his own family.

Six months of unprotected sex and still no baby. He couldn't understand why, but he never broached the subject with McCall, who was extremely uptight about it. Her 35th birthday was looming and to her, it was a ticking time bomb.

There was, however, something very special on his mind this Christmas Eve.

McCall was wearing a wine-colored dress, and her hair was piled on top of her head in a mass of dark curls. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder as he approached. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him, and she instinctively stretched her neck to give his lips a good angle. He swore he heard her purr as he placed light, gentle kisses along her throat.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered into her ear, lightly nipping the soft, tender lobe. He chuckled softly when her breath hitched with a hint of desire.

"Merry Christmas," she replied softly, turning in his arms and wrapping her arms around his waist. She lay her head against his broad chest, and he held her for a while, not speaking.

"How would you like your Christmas present early?"

She stepped back and smiled broadly. "Really? You never let me open anything early," she mused. He took one hand in hers and held it.

He had rehearsed this in his head more than a hundred times, and suddenly, his mouth was dry and the words had disappeared. She looked at him expectantly. "I uh, you know that I love you, right?" Hunter said, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was full of cotton.

Her eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Yes. And I love you. Why?"

"Because . . . . because I realized that I will love you more every single day, until the day that I die, and I uh . . . . I want you to be my wife." She gasped in surprise. He brought out a little black velvet box and snapped open the lid, showing off a gleaming gold band with a huge pear-shaped diamond solitaire surrounded by smaller round stones with baguettes adorning the top of the band on each side. "I love you, Dee," he whispered. "Will you marry me?"

Hunter shivered with nervous jitters. She wasn't answering. McCall just looked at him with round eyes, her mouth slack with surprise as she looked back and forth between him and the ring. He felt the pulse in her wrist beating wildly, and he swore her heart was pounding as fast as his.

"Well?" he asked hesitantly. "What do you say? Will you be my wife?"

"Oh my God," she breathed. "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" she said, and threw her arms around him. "I love you," she said into his ear.

He held her tightly against him, caressing her back through the material of her dress. He realized he was still holding the ring, so he stepped back and separated from her, taking her left hand and sliding the ring onto her ring finger. It was a perfect fit.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

He met her for a searing kiss, and within seconds, she pulled away, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Since we're exchanging gifts early," she said, winking at him. "I have something special for you, too." She turned and reached into her purse that was sitting on a chair and handed him a small, rectangular-shaped box, wrapped in Christmas paper and tied with a bright green and red Christmas bow.

He tore off the paper and opened the lid of the box. Nestled on a bed of cotton was a long, plastic stick. Written in small letters on the stick was "Merry Christmas" and there was an arrow drawn after the letters toward two windows inside the stick. In one window there was a fine blue line. On the other, there were two similar blue lines.

Hunter looked at her with shock, suddenly realizing that he was looking at a home pregnancy test. He looked at her in wonder, and saw tears of joy welled up in her eyes. "You're pregnant?" he asked, his voice strangled with emotion.

"Yes," she said softly, her bottom trip trembling. "I wanted to wait until I knew it was for sure before I told you. He reached for her and held her close, and then he gently cradled her face between his large hands and kissed her.

"I love you," he said. He looked down and placed his palm on her abdomen, and she placed hers over top. He paused for a moment – he felt a pronounced curve that he hadn't noticed before. Was it his imagination? She smiled at his reaction.

"This baby is 3 ½ months old already," she whispered, holding his hand even closer. "Remember that time we had lunch out in the park, and I was sad because I had my period? You bought me a cheeseburger and lemonade?"

Hunter was floored, barely hearing her words. 3 ½ months along . . . she had kept the secret far too long.

"I was already pregnant . . . that was breakthrough bleeding. I had no idea. And I had that happen a few times the past couple of months so I thought it was . . . you know." She blushed at the intimate details. She looked at him with joy in her eyes. "I started to not feel well and then I had my annual physical two weeks ago, and Beth told me I was pregnant. So with Christmas just around the corner . . . I wanted this to be my Christmas gift to you."

Hunter smiled and then pulled her to him, placing a kiss on her lips once again.

"Is everything ok, though?" he asked, a hint of worry on his face.

"Everything is fine," she said quietly, holding both of his hands in hers and giving them a squeeze. "I hope you're not angry because I didn't tell you earlier. I just, needed to wrap my own mind around this." Her dark eyes looked away and he saw her fight back threatening tears. She looked at him again, her eyes shining with pure joy. "I wanted to make sure that everything was ok, and that my body wouldn't fail me. I was so scared, that maybe, something in me was broken. I didn't want to disappoint you."

"That will never happen," he assured her. His craggy face lit up with a new, radiant smile that showed off the dimples she loved. He took her left hand in his and kissed the top of her ring finger that was now adorned with a sparkling diamond. He pulled her into an embrace and met her for a kiss that deepened with a promise of forever.


	6. Epilogue

Hunter sat in a chair at McCall's bedside, his newborn son resting in his arms, with one tiny hand curled around Hunter's pinky finger. It was only after McCall fell into an exhausted sleep that he was able to pry the infant from her protective arms.

Ten hours ago, she had woken him in the wee hours of the morning to take her to the hospital, and her cry of distress in the green Dodge resulted in lights and siren through the maddening L.A. traffic.

"Why did you wait so long to wake me up?" he barked as he laid on the horn for the hundredth time.

"I didn't want to go to the hospital and lay there for hours on end," she said through gritted teeth.

"You'll be lucky you don't deliver this baby in the car," Hunter pointed out as he cursed the morning rush hour traffic.

"Just drive, dammit!" McCall ordered.

As it turned out, she almost delivered in the damn elevator carrying them to the maternity ward, Hunter recalled. He picked her up, raced her through the hallway and within seconds of getting her nightgown replaced with a hospital gown and an IV started in her arm, Richard Anthony Hunter III arrived, screaming his head off. He was 8 ½ lbs. and 21" long – a big baby for a woman of McCall's size.

Hunter stared at the baby boy who was now his son. The child was beautiful, with blue eyes, a light cap of dark hair, and ten fingers and toes attached to chubby arms and legs. McCall was instantly in love, and she cried tears of joy when they placed him in her arms, still wet and screaming from birth.

Instant love, he thought. He never thought in a million years that he could love another human being more than he loved McCall. But this was a new kind of love, and he relished the feeling.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" a soft, sleepy voice said to him. He turned his head and watched McCall's sleepy eyes look over at the two men in her life. "You're a natural."

Hunter smiled. "You're supposed to be sleeping," he told her.

She yawned and smiled at him. "I know. But I just can't stop looking at him."

"I think he's going to be first baseman or a pitcher for the Dodgers," he said. "Look at how long his fingers are. He'll have a great knuckle ball."

"No football?" she asked.

"Football would be okay, too. But not for the Raiders. They suck." His statement was followed by a giggle.

He stood up and gingerly returned the sleeping child into her arms. McCall cradled him close and inhaled his sweet newborn baby scent. "I can't believe he is ours."

"You'll believe it when he is screaming to eat at all hours of the night."

"I won't care. I'm just so happy he's here. And he's perfect."

Hunter leaned down to kiss her chastely on the forehead. "Thank you," Hunter told her, his voice choking with emotion. He seemed to be doing a lot of that in the last year. Must be old age, he thought.

She looked up at him and received another gentle kiss on the lips.

He crashed and burned again. But this time, the crash of falling in love ignited a burning fire of love within him that would never be extinguished. And for that reason, he was indeed a blessed man.


End file.
